


Train

by Davechicken



Category: Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015)
Genre: M/M, Pre-Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-03
Updated: 2017-03-03
Packaged: 2018-09-28 02:02:18
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,219
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10065080
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Davechicken/pseuds/Davechicken
Summary: Kylo and Hux. Sparring. Bets. Threats. The usual.





	

No one knows what Kylo Ren looks like, or no one but the Leader, and the other Knights of Ren. The Starkiller base is big enough that even a man of his above-average height isn’t that much of a statistical anomaly. Even Captain Phasma is taller than him, so a broad-shouldered, tall man could be one of many.

In the gym, there’s a rule that rank doesn’t matter, it’s left with the uniform in the changing rooms. Without his mask, Kylo is just another man keeping his body in shape. He likes to work at endurance here, bringing up the physical side of things. Being ‘nameless’ means he also needs to keep his Force-powers in check. 

Eyes glide over his shoulders and calves, and he feels the respect dripping over him. Yes. In here, he feels… _good_.

So good, in fact, that when he sees Hux walk out of the changing rooms… well. He won’t deny he’s feeling full of himself. In here, there’s no reservations about him. He’s just the same as everyone else, and that buoys him up.

Hux, without his broad-shouldered coat, is a completely different shape. Kylo knows his own silhouette is utterly different here, without the padding of his robes, belt, mask, hood. If anyone were to guess his real identity, it would be Hux, who might pick his voice out without the mask. 

The General is a different build, lithe and breakable. He’s got some definition to him, but he simply doesn’t have the muscle tone to be truly strong, and his eyes are lingering for longer than…

“You couldn’t,” Hux says, glancing over his shoulder.  


“What?”  


“You’re thinking you could take me. You couldn’t.”  


Okay, now, that’s just… has Hux _looked_ in a mirror? Plus, he spends all his time pushing digits around on a holo-board, he doesn’t get his hands dirty, not like Kylo does.

“I could. Easily. You look like you’d shatter on impact.”  


“Looks can be deceiving,” Hux says, and tosses the towel from around his neck onto a mat to one side. “What’s wrong? Not used to realising your own limitations?”  


“No, I’m wondering how you’re planning on cheating, or if you’ll be a sore loser.” Okay, so he was feeling proud before, but now his anger’s pricked, and there’s no going back from that.  


Just because he’s the General, he assumes everyone will let him win? Is that it? Or is he going to get someone to try to pull the mat from below his feet? Kylo cracks his knuckles and goes to the (now conveniently empty) sparring mat.

“Prepare to tap out.”  


 _I’ll tap you out_ , he thinks, and flexes his knees, getting ready. Hands up, braced. He reaches out with the Force first, then remembers it’s not really fair, and he wants this to be as fair as possible, so he has the full satisfaction of pounding the man’s ass into the ground.

Hux drops into an answering stance, and Kylo has to admire his form and confidence, if nothing else. They circle, and start a few opening feints and dodges. Kylo is getting ready when he hears the whisper:

“ _Fifty creds on Hux_.”  


“ _Space yourself, I’m not taking that!”_  


What?

He’s distracted by the idea that anyone would bet _against_ him that he doesn’t really process the sudden flick of hands. Left-right-left. His hindbrain blocks the first two, but the third catches his torso, just under the ribs. Hux continues to dance around, and Kylo snaps his head back into the game.

It’s a dumb trick, that’s all. It’s a… confidence trick. Spook the new guy, get him to doubt himself. Yeah. It won’t work on _him_ , because he’s _skilled_ , and also he’s seen through it.

“ _How about we bet how long the Hammerhead lasts against him_?”  


Kylo over-extends, and then there’s a shoulder at his torso, and he’s about to rain down punches to shoulders when legs tangle up with his, a sudden twist and turn that topples him. 

The man has to stay in close, and Kylo is so back-footed that he can’t believe he’s on his ass, pretzeled up with Hux. The man has more elbows and knees than a Human should, and they’re all pressing on nerve bundles, cutting off bloodflow and causing intense pain.

He has to give it to him, he’s good at his version of fighting. On a lesser man, it would have worked. But Kylo isn’t about to let this upstart get the better of him, just because he’s very bendy and fast. He plants his feet and rolls them, using his weight to smother Hux down into the mat.

It does mean their legs twisted together locks their groins in close proximity, and he’s breathing right in his face, and suddenly everything is rather… uh… warm…

“You won’t win, Ren,” Hux hisses in his ear.  


“Neither will you.”  


“You might have more power and weight, but I can cause _significant_ pain.”  


“I’ll hold out.” Seriously. Kylo knows pain, and now he knows Hux knows he’s himself, and Hux knows Kylo knows Hux knows… “Or we could both keep face, and I could use the Force to sound an alarm.”  


“You seriously are that afraid of losing?”  


“Don’t you mean you’re not willing to lose everyone’s respect?”  


“It won’t come to that.”  


Kylo can feel his right arm going numb, and he uses his left leg to put more pressure on the man under him. They rock and hands and feet shift, each gaining some ground to lose somewhere else. Kylo has to hand it to him: Hux is ridiculously more nasty than he gave him credit for.

“Do you have to win _everything_?” Kylo asks.  


“Yes,” Hux replies, his tone curt.   


Another tack, then. “What’s the victory worth to you?”  


“You don’t need to pretend you’re _offering_ it to me.”  


“Then why haven’t you won, yet?”  


Their voices low so no one can really hear, the whole conversation plays out between palms dragged over faces, and chokeholds and pinches and kicks traded back and forth. Hux is tiring, but he’s getting _nasty,_ and Kylo fears for his eyeballs.

“It’s just a matter of time, Ren.”  


“Right.” Kylo places the tie-breaking card up his sleeve, and smashes his face against Hux’s, stealing a kiss.  


It’s enough to make the man shock out of his hold, and then Kylo has him pinned down, and everyone is staring.

“Get _off_ me!” Hux snarls.  


“Not until you admit I won.”  


“You _cheated_.”  


“Still won.”  


“That’s not - you know that’s not fair! And - what will my men think, now?”  


“I could make them forget?” Kylo offers. He watches as Hux works through the cost:benefit analysis of owing Kylo a favour, versus his staff seeing this man kiss and pin him.  


“Just… blank them all, before I do,” Hux says, turning his head to one side. He won’t admit defeat, not properly.  


“As you wish,” Kylo says, and he’s busy doing that when Hux’s knee comes up and hits his balls.  


He’s left on all fours, with Hux darting off to one side, and he scrunches up in agony.

“Next time, _ask_ ,” Hux taunts, and leaves him there, suffering.  


(So he was right. Good to know, and worth the knee to the balls.) Next time, it won’t be _here_ , either.


End file.
